A sound which strays away from the indie nothingness, the white grins and the shit mod aesthetic. Instead they offer up something that sounds like Warhol’s drug parties; a flurried sonic debauchery soaked in a generous helping of fuzz which makes the eyes dilate and the body slump. The whirring riff driven tour de force of Jo Mary is an unstoppable power.
In the age old Wirral tradition the boys look back for inspiration but leave the harmonies and acoustic guitar behind preferring the mad, the bad and the ugly.